


Sarcastic Comment!

by ThreeHats



Category: Firefly, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:09:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeHats/pseuds/ThreeHats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal approached the spectral form of the referee, who stared right through him. Mal also stared right through the ref in turn, as he was almost completely transparent due to the non-corporeal nature of the inhabitants of this, the only indian burial ground in all the known reaches of space. Mal would've given anything to have a single member of his crew be familiar enough with the rules of this archaic terran ball game that they themselves could oversee the innings, but sadly that role had to be filled by one of the many ghosts that belonged to this place.</p><p>All characters, locations and scenarios were pulled out of a hat to create this story, which was written in 30 minutes or less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sarcastic Comment!

All characters, locations and scenarios were pulled out of a hat to create this story, which was written in 30 minutes or less.

 **Characters:** Malcom Reynolds, Levi  
 **Location:** Baseball field  
 **Scenario:** Haunted segway tour

 

"Foul ball!"

The astral referee's call was absurd, of course. Mal knew as soon as Inara's impossibly long leg had kicked off from home plate that she was reaping the good luck they were so very owed after the last miserable hour of play. He flung his arms spacewards, the baseball field constructed in artificial gravity upon an asteroid field casting a dramatic horizon as a backdrop to his bemusement. A field upon a field. It still tickled him, even in this, his most gorram pissed off state.

Mal approached the spectral form of the referee, who stared right through him. Mal also stared right through the ref in turn, as he was almost completely transparent due to the non-corporeal nature of the inhabitants of this, the only indian burial ground in all the known reaches of space. Mal would've given anything to have a single member of his crew be familiar enough with the rules of this archaic terran ball game that they themselves could oversee the innings, but sadly that role had to be filled by one of the many ghosts that belonged to this place.

"You gotta be kidding me!" Mal brandished his sarcasm with more expertise than his trusty sidearm. He was a Joss Whedon character, after all, so he had to be trained in the snark arts. He jammed a finger so close to the referee's ectoplasm-spattered chin that it almost went straight through. "You let the other team get away with using that three-dimensional hooplah nonsense, but you're comin' down on Inara because... Why are you coming down on her, again?"

"Her uniform is hardly traditional," the ghost referee's eyes literally rolled in his sockets, wavering there like twin pools of clammy water. "I can see everything."

Mal turned and cocked a shrug toward Inara's outfit, which was one of her more revealing getups. She had been busy courting someone when Mal had invited her on this haunted segway tour of the spookiest asteroid field in Alpha Centauri. What he had failed to mention to her - or the rest of his unwitting crew - was that the tour was just a quickly thrown together distraction from the fact that he wanted to play in the intergalactic baseball league's interplanetary playoffs. Just to say that he could, of course, which was reason enough for a Joss Whedon character.

"So she ain't wearing a cup," Mal admitted, "Look how the enemy team's captain is dressed!"

Mal aimed the referee's attention toward the pitcher, the fellow with the odd regard in his tiny pupiled eyes and the brow the size of New Manhattan. Short as he was, he had proven lithe and accurate enough to score home run after home run. Even if the rest of his team hadn't been playing under him, Mal reckoned they didn't stand a chance against a man with such prowess on the field. The score was stacked against them - his team of unruly shipmates, team name the Fireflies, versus them, the Titans.

"This uniform is designed for the utmost efficiency," Levi's monotone made Mal want to strangle an intelligent lifeform of any sort. "It enables us to traverse any environment, both planetary and extra-planetary. The problem is you simply are not very good at the game."

"Your uniforms look like My First Gimp Suit," Mal wagged his tongue, indicating the straps that cupped Levi's oddly thick thighs and the gear pinched to his back that shot some sort of hooked rope, which had been instrumental in their ability to get to first, second, third, and fourth base in record time. "Right, Kaylee?"

"Sarcastic comment!" quipped Kaylee from the benches, where she sat as perhaps the only audience member that was not some manner of specter.

"You got this, Mal!" came Wash's voice from beside Kaylee. He gripped Shepherd Book by the arm and threw it up alongside his own enthusiastic fist, punching the air and crowing for the Fireflies to come out victorious. Mal cringed as he realized he could see the benches behind them right through their pallid forms. "We're rooting for you!"

From the opposite end of the benches, a freckled young man ghost cried out support for one of Levi's teammates - Jean, from the sounds of things. Mal ignored it, deciding it probably wasn't very important.

"Just let Inara walk to first and then we'll take the rest of this playoff right out from your stupid anime noses," Mal grunted, hoping he could use his rugged Nathan Fillion-ness to win over the referee. He turned and gave a hopeful look to the rest of the crew - on the sidelines, Jayne sat in the reserve section with a shirt that said I invented gamergate. Mal was becoming sick of being distracted by not-important things, so he turned his full attention on the referee. "You know we can do this. We're Joss Whedon characters. We're plucky and attractive."

"I died a long time ago so I literally have no stake in any of this," the ghost referee conceded, and he blew a spectral whistle. Inara walked seductively to first base, and Mal somehow restrained the urge to make the obvious first base related quip that would've gone straight onto the Firefly IMDb page within the hour.

Mal gave the signal, and Rivr stepped up to the plate,l readying her baseball bat. It was crafted from fakium - the strongest fake metal known to man. But that wasn't the secret weapon. The secret weapon was River - a young, nubile female character that could do neat looking flips, which essentially made her a superhuman badass if the camera filmed her the right way. She would be the perfect counterbalance to Levi's gorram maneuverer gear bullshit. Mal stood back and let destiny and poor writing take center stage.

Levi's eyebrow twitched, and Mal was certain he could hear the sound of a tumblr account taking a screencap of Levi's slight display of emotion. He brought the baseball to his chest, and then positioned himself into an arousing ball of unnecessarily contorted limbs. He was about to throw the ball head on at River, who had similarly brought herself into a seemingly ridiculous pose where he could see both her cleavage and her ass. Mal gulped as Levi shifted, the ball and his hand becoming one as he spun into a blur of violent precision, the sphere launching from his clutches as he whipped his arm around like a lasso catching a bull.

The ball flew.

And struck.

River's bat connected and the field itself seemed to lose all semblance of reality. The baseball cracked into the air like a comet kissing a planet's atmosphere, but it didn't get far. The young blonde boy on the Titans' side zipped athletically through the sky, his maneuver gear broadcasting its release and striking the side of the scoreboard as he reached and caught the ball a split second after it had been hit. Armin screamed as the ball burnt its way into his flesh, having been struck so hard that it scorched his very fingers as they clamped down upon it.

"ARMIN!!!" came the scream of what Mal assumed was their main character, as it emitted from a young semi-attractive ruffian that looked like every other anime character he'd ever seen. Eren too launched himself in order to catch his blonde teammate, and in mid-air bit his thumb offhandedly, transforming into an enormous humanoid beast that towered over the baseball field. Unfortunately, in his titan form, Eren stood just a few meters too tall and his head passed through the artificial environment constructed about this particular asteroid field/baseball field/interstellar indian burial ground, and he rapidly suffocated.

"Due to the death of more than half their team," the referee ghost bellowed softly, "the Fireflies win."

Mal could scarcely believe his ears. Not just because they'd won, but also because they were a Joss Whedon series and yet their opponents had several more deaths than they had.


End file.
